


Keto Daydreams

by Iblis_Daughter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, I guess Samstiel in the sense that Sam is venting his frustration?, M/M, Other, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sam Winchester is So Done, Why Did I Write This?, has this been done before??, honestly?canon, improper use of pottery, improper use of vinaigrette, unaware cum-eating?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 17:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iblis_Daughter/pseuds/Iblis_Daughter
Summary: Sam FUCKS a SALAD very HEALTHILY.Yeah.That's...really it.I'm sorry?





	Keto Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not actually sorry. It's 3 in the morning. What happens at 3 AM, stays at 3 AM. Moreover, why did you click on a fic about Sam fucking a salad?  
> We're not so different, you and I.

He'd been through a lot.  
  
More than anyone should rightly go through. He suffered through addiction, Hell, the trials to close Heaven that had turned out to be nothing but a ruse, his brother's Mark of Cain and the whole The Darkness mess, and now?  
  
He was currently suffering through his idiotic older brother and their angelic best friend being the most un-subtle beings in the history of the universe.  
  
If it wasn't the constant eye-sex, it was petty, loud arguments that echoed over the gigantic expanse of the bunker( _because iced coffee is for hipsters and sissies, Cas!_ ) that ended with broken dishes, bloody noses, and ultimately, groaning sex that sounded like two angry elephants fighting for control of the savannah.  
  
"Shut the _fuck up,_ Sammy's gonna-" __  
  
"I would if you were not so insistently _pinching_ my nipples, _Dean Winches_ - _ughhh..."_  
  
"Yeah, you _like that,_  baby _?"_ Dean purred, and it sounded like a stack of boxes was falling over.  
  
"Your brother is in the library, this is not wise-"  
  
Sam had about had it up to all of his six foot four self. Headphones were not meant to be turned all the way up, and he had burned through several pairs and given himself tinnitus, but nothing could drown out the obscene, terrible sounds coming from the abused kitchen. How the _fuck_ did they think that he had no idea what was going on?  
  
He bit back a sob and clapped his hands over his ears at the noise of someone's deep, muffled scream and a string of stage-whispered cursing, and the lightbulb in the lamp next to him burst in its socket.  
  
He'd been through a lot. Nobody could blame him for longing for some self-care.  
  
"Shit,  _shit, Cas,_ " and Sam prayed above to whoever was listening that the end was in sight. There was another loud  _clang_ , some scuffling, fabric noises, a zipper being pulled up haphazardly, and a yelp several octaves too high that had to have come from Cas.  
  
Five minutes later, Dean peered around the corner of the library. Sam pretended to turn the page of the book he was supposed to be researching.  
  
"Hey," Dean grinned lopsidedly, and Sam tried to ignore how utterly fucked his brother's hair was, "Uh...Sam. Sammy."  
  
"What," Sam gritted out a bit harder than he meant to. Dean's shirt was inside out.  
  
"Uh," Dean scratched the back of his head. "Do...do we still have the saw? That enchanted saw?"  
  
"Um," Sam closed the book and stared at Dean. Castiel was hanging behind him. He was always a bit too close, but he seemed almost attached to his brother this time, and wouldn't make eye contact. Sam noted his tie was backwards and his coat was hanging off a shoulder.  
  
"We broke it, remember? It snapped on that witch that had an adamantine collar."  
  
"Shit."  
  
Dean tugged his other arm up, dragging Cas with him, and it was clear that there was a pair of Enochian-carved handcuffs binding them both together.  
  
"We were cleaning up boxes," Cas said so quiet that Sam had to strain to hear him, "We were looking through boxes and found some of the Men of Letters older items."  
  
"Inventory," Dean smiled a little too widely. "We were doing inventory."  
  
"You were doing a lot of inventory," Sam remarked, crossing his arms, and watched as his words floated into the air and bounced off of Dean and his angel's thick head and splattered onto the floor.  
  
"Yeah, well, we're gonna go out and see if Lebanon has a Home Depot and get Cas to put some sigils on it so we can get this shit off," Dean said brusquely. He 180'd in place, making Cas stumble, and together they stalked off to the garage.  
  
Sam rubbed his eyes.  
  
Well. No time but the present to do self-care, right?  
  
He was finally alone. The rumble of the Impala's engine faded into the distance, and Sam knew he had a few hours to himself.  
  
Sam pushed off from the table with a long-suffering sigh and headed into the kitchen.  
  
He opened the cupboard and after much deliberation, took out a slightly misshapen bowl and set it on the counter. It wasn't ugly, the glaze a marbled blue. Cas had made it after dragging Dean to a free pottery class at the local community college, and it was currently his proudest project( _It makes me feel not useless, like I am creating something_ , he had stated, blue eyes shining with joy).  
  
Sam opened the fridge and took out the ingredients for a large kale salad, chopping cherry tomatoes and tossing it all in an olive oil vinaigrette. It glistened invitingly, green leaves curling and contrasting against the smooth bowl.  
  
He was aware he was salivating, and Sam wiped his lips. So what if he got worked up over a fucking kale salad? He liked to eat healthy, and no matter what Dean said, he enjoyed salad in all its many forms. Sam cracked some pepper over it, and sat back to admire his creation.  
  
If he had an Instagram, he'd post this salad. It was picture perfect even in its oddly-shaped bowl. Plucking a leaf out, he crunched it down and swallowed, tongue chasing the tang of the vinaigrette. Almost fuckable.  
  
Wait.  
  
Had he just...regarded a salad as  _fuckable?_  
  
Yes. That he had. Sam blinked slowly at the sudden heat pooling in his groin. It pleasantly coiled at his dick.   
  
For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, he was hard. Hard with a capital H. Huh. Go figure.  
  
Absently, he palmed himself through the denim of his jeans, feeling himself swell. Well. He had time.  
  
Sam leaned against the table and unzipped, worming a hand in to loosen his boxers. His cock was only too eager to spring free, and he stroked slowly up its long, thick shaft, pressuring the ridge as he came up on the head. He winced slightly. Lube. He could really use some, if he had any.   
  
Looking around, he spotted the vinaigrette bottle on the counter, and he snatched it before pouring a generous amount onto his palm. It slicked the way perfectly, and he couldn't stop a satisfied groan from escaping his throat. He gripped his cock tighter just the way he liked and jerked himself at a faster pace.  
  
His mind searched for a fantasy to latch onto, and he settled on picturing someone sucking him off. Yes, that would do nicely. His thumb brushed the slit, catching precum, and he imagined someone with full lips stretched around the fat head of his cock. The smack of them brushing over his shaft and taking him to the root. Pink, hot, wet. Maybe uncomfortably familiar, but he wasn't about to address that.  
  
Sam craned his head around to look at the salad bowl, bottom lip caught between his front teeth. He needed more stimulation. Flushing dark red, he reached out and took it with trembling fingers, and laid his dick in the salad.  
  
He knew he was large, and it gave him a tingle of pride to see that he could cover the entire expanse of the container. His cock fit perfectly in the strange hollow of its handcrafted sides, as if it was made for it. The thought of Cas' long fingers shaping it sent a jolt straight to his cock, and it made Sam jump.   
  
Gripping his cock in his fist, he pumped up and down deliberately, trying to put thoughts of his best friend out of his mind. It wasn't right. Cas was Dean's, and he  _absolutely_ was not picturing Castiel's beautiful hands covered in wet clay shaping the bowl on the wheel, shaping it from a mound of nothing, and then suddenly, Cas kneeling in his clay-coated smock at Sam's feet and looking up innocently with large blue eyes as his equally blue glaze-streaked hands touched his hips, frost pink lips parting-  
  
Sam groaned with abandon, caught up in the fantasy as his cock slid back and forth between the large leaves of kale, catching on the tomatoes and carrots and his own rough fist. He was  _positively_ not thinking about Cas' dark hair disheveled and ruffled on the sheen of sweat on his forehead, of the heat of his pornographic mouth, of his joy at being able to mold something from nothing, of how he looked with Sam's large cock pressing the inside of his cheek and choking down his tight throat as those blue eyes unwaveringly stared upwards and he swallowed, the muscles of his throat caressing him in pulsing heat-  
  
"Fuck," Sam cursed out, and with another twist of his hand, he spilled out into the bowl, vision whiting out as he threw his head back and rode out the waves of his orgasm.   
  
He came down trembling. He put the bowl down onto the table, running a hand through his hair with shaky fingers, other hand gripping white-knuckled at the edge.  
  
He knew he had some unresolved issues, but that really took the cake in a long line of  _fucked up_ for Sam Winchester. He wiped his dick off with a napkin gingerly, regretting the vinaigrette lube as it stickily dried. A shower, then. And maybe some deep inner retrospection and therapy.  
  
A door opened and slammed, combined with two male voices arguing loudly, and Sam hurried to tuck himself back into his pants and look presentable.   
  
"Sammy, we're back!" Dean hollered from across the bunker, and Sam waved stiffly. "Cas suddenly remembered there was an extra saw in the garage when we were halfway to the next city twenty minutes away. Ain't that convenient? I'm hitting the showers."  
  
Dean ran off out of sight, his boots stomping and echoing with every step.  
  
"Hello, Sam," Castiel said gravely, lugging two large bags of groceries onto the counter. "We are free now. Dean said for me to tell you he is cooking stroganoff with bacon and that you will," Cas paused to air quote, " _like it a lot or else._ "  
  
"Stroganoff," Sam croaked out finally. He was doing his damnedest not to look at the angel. "That's...that's great, Cas. I love stroganoff."  
  
Sam instantly wanted to die as soon as the words left his mouth, but thankfully, Cas didn't seem to notice. Instead, he walked over past Sam and tilted his head up at him.  
  
"Are you going to eat that? I am very happy to see the bowl I made is getting use, Sam. Dean called it very ugly in class and got removed by the teacher for making phallic objects."   
  
Yep, that was it, Sam wanted to pool into the floor and die. Cas was holding the blue salad bowl up and staring at him questioningly.   
  
"I-I'm still eating that," Sam finally got out. He wondered if it was humanly possible to explode Leviathan-style. Castiel looked disappointed.   
  
"I really have developed a taste for vinaigrette," he said sadly, "As I become closer to human every day as my grace ebbs, it is something I seem to find joy in. Perhaps because it is such a pure flavor."  
  
He reached out and stole a leaf and shoved it in his mouth before handing it back to Sam, who watched in minute horror as Cas popped a cherry tomato between his lips, tongue darting out to catch the liquid as it burst.   
  
That was it, Sam was going to find the Colt and blow his brains out with it after shooting himself in the dick and balls as soon as possible. But he couldn't stop watching as Cas swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing gently, and Cas frowned.  
  
"It...tastes odd."  
  
"I-it's a different brand," Sam squeaked hoarsely. Cas tilted his head at him again but seemed to accept the explanation, and sauntered out of the kitchen, coat billowing behind him.  
  
Sam let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding in the entire time. He buried his face in his hands.  
  
He had gone through a lot. But maybe, he deserved it a little.


End file.
